


Generations Of Brilliance

by Harmony



Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmony/pseuds/Harmony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Eric is promoted to Sheriff, Godric visits him at his new office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Generations Of Brilliance

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was a request from sabbrielle, who gave me the prompt 'hands'.
> 
>  **Note:** This fic was written before Season 7 came out (where they showed a flashback of Eric being promoted to Sheriff), and we know that Eric  & Godric never met up between the events of Augsburg and the events of Season 2, so _THIS FIC IS NOW AU_. Before Season 7 came out it was never explicitly stated when Eric was promoted to Sheriff, so I had taken it upon myself to choose a date that was sometime after [Godric’s promotion](http://trueblood.wikia.com/wiki/Godric) – hence, this fic is set around the late 1920s.
> 
> Also posted at [my Livejournal](http://silverharmony.livejournal.com) :) Any feedback would be very much appreciated.

When Godric comes around to the new office, he observes it to be surprisingly cozy despite its relatively small dimensions; it's currently empty and almost completely unfurnished, with unpacked boxes sitting in the corner and a thin layer of dust covering the singular desk in the middle of the room. Even as he had first come up the worn, grey stairs, he could hear Pam’s drawling chatter in one of the adjoining rooms, Eric’s own instructive murmurs accompanying the shuffle of feet against a bare floor, the faint crackle of a record player spinning a dulcet Al Jolson ballad on low volume. There’s an unexpected homeliness to it all, in no small part owed to the occupants; he can’t have felt more at home than when he spots his progeny for the first time in weeks, crisp white suit open and shirt buttons halfway undone, his face and shoulders relaxed and comfortably easy as he’ll always be.  
  
Eric is supervising the move of a bookshelf into the room when the dark-haired vampire arrives at the door, and those eyes light up with a glimmer immediately the moment they meet his own; one signaling wave of the blond’s large hand and his new vampire subordinates are promptly leaving the bookshelf by the nearest wall and filing out in obedience.  
  
'It's a nice place,' Godric utters approvingly, looking around the room.  
  
Eric scratches the back of his head, his face expressing a look of uncharacteristic modesty at the comment - well, as modest as Eric Northman could ever get, anyway; but then again, for all the energy and spontaneity he naturally has to his personal character, he has always conducted himself with unconditional respect in Godric’s presence. 'I don't know if it suits me, really. But it's not bad to start off with,' he explains. 'I chose something simple for now, as that's what you chose and would choose. Something as humble as yourself.'  
  
'You shouldn't let my personal tastes influence you,' frowns Godric as he walks over to idly inspect the empty bookshelf.  
  
The blond shakes his head. 'Why not? I wanted to. It’s good. It's _you_.'  
  
An answer typical of Eric, Godric thinks; he appreciates that his progeny’s feelings can be so complex, and yet the manner in which he expresses them can be so simple. It’s part of what has kept them so close together, keenly attached, in all these years. But even with the mild affection that spills through him at the blond’s expressed admiration, he knows it’d be wrong if he didn’t at least remind the other vampire to steer his own footsteps.  
  
'What do you think is more _you_?'  
  
Eric tilts his head slightly in thought as he turns his gaze out the window, his pale eyes indulgently earnest underneath the gentle wash of early evening moonlight. 'A bar,' he answers casually, his expression deceptively soft for what he's suggesting. 'A club.'  
  
At this answer, Godric lets a small, demure smile spread across his features. 'A club?'  
  
'Yeah, I’d like one. With a small stage for dancers, and the bar off to the side. And my office would be upstairs, maybe, or downstairs or just off to an adjacent room. I'd be able to hear the music and general revelry while I worked, or join in if I need to. It'd keep me from going insane if there's too much to do.'  
  
It's an honest reply, and it's more Eric than anything else he can think of. The mental picture of dancing girls donned in feathery costumes, the heat of bright lights and the reverberation of a jazz piano melody suits him well; it’s the late 1920s, and Eric Northman’s lust for life and thrill had never weakened in all the years they’d lived side-by-side. 'Yes,’ Godric agrees encouragingly. ‘That's definitely more your style.'  
  
The corners of Eric's mouth twitch in mild amusement, and he turns to look back at Godric with unmistakable respect in his gaze. 'You would actually approve of that?'  
  
The dark-haired vampire raises an eyebrow. 'Why not? It's _you_.'  
  
That echo isn't lost on them, and they both find mild entertainment and ease in the sentiment, but that’s that. They move together then – almost in perfect simultaneity – to the desk in the middle of the room, and turn to comfortably lean their lower backs against it. The length of their arms touch lightly as they rest beside each other there, and it crosses Godric’s thoughts not for the first time what a strangely inspiring combination they really are: the younger, tall, built progeny and the ancient, small, lean maker, still walking the earth together like they did almost a thousand years before, _father, brother, son_. He hasn’t heard of any other vampire pair who had knitted themselves to each other with the same unmitigated loyalty and love for as many centuries as they have. And the knowledge warms him.  
  
'It's still strange,' Eric says suddenly, seeming uncertain. 'Thinking about how we're considered the same rank now.'  
  
'I'm proud of you,' answers Godric reassuringly, even though he finds it strange, too; not because he thinks that Eric should rightfully be in a lower rank than himself, which he doesn’t care about, but because Eric has taken on a position of responsibility under an increasingly stiff Authority at all. Eric never hides his love and vigor for his personal life, and Godric knows he will take the role of sheriff with all seriousness, but he characteristically bends to no one but Godric himself. The years to follow will be worthy of note. 'It shows just how much you've grown.'  
  
The blond shakes his head. 'You think too highly of me. I just wanted more variety in my life.'  
  
'That's not a bad thing.'  
  
'And I look up to you,' he says, locking his gaze firmly on Godric's; and it's so curious what they have with each other, Godric muses, because Eric is so much taller than him and has to physically look down upon him as he says this. 'I’ll never not look up to you. And I guess … it’s my own way of being closer to wherever you may be. So that it’s like we're still together every day, and you're not always obliged to be all the way in Dallas, this way.'  
  
The words _I missed you_ hang in the air between them, but the dark-haired vampire knows his progeny won’t say them – that degree of openly sentimental simplicity is not always in his personality. And it’s completely forgivable, because the message is still broadcasted in the softness of the expression on his face and in the creasing of his eyes and Godric is still touched by it. It’s comforting to not have Eric kneeling in veneration before him at this moment, to not have the differences between maker and progeny laid out so clearly between them. Right now, they’re equals to each other more than anything.  
  
He can then feel Eric’s large hand closing over his on the table, warm and consoling, and Godric leans into the touch, brushing his thin knuckles against Eric’s palm. The silent contact is more reassuring than any words exchanged between them, and Godric finds himself hard-pressed at the idea of leaving for Dallas again when it’s time, at leaving this behind. But he’s not going to think about that right now; right now he’s going to indulge in this private intimacy, to spend deserved time with his dearly-loved child and support him in his promotion. Now that they’re bound to duty in two different cities, even the smallest amount of time spent with one another is altogether precious. He finds a tranquil relief at that moment to see Eric’s gaze seemingly mirroring his thoughts.  
  
Pam appears in the doorway at this point, leaning sleekly against the frame, subtly tilting her head once in politeness upon seeing Godric. He is surprised to find that neither he nor Eric are compelled to shift themselves or their hands at her sudden presence, even though they know she isn’t focused on that anyway. ‘A drink of celebration?’ she drawls, raising a sensuously thin eyebrow, her red-painted lips quirking in one corner. ‘They brought in some fine willing boys for us. I’d say it’s especially called for now that there are three generations of brilliance here.’  
  
‘Give us a minute,’ answers Eric, the start of a smirk spreading across his features. ‘We’ll be right there.’  
  
‘Looking forward to it, Sheriff Northman,’ she teases mildly, before spinning around and disappearing again, the echoes of her high heels clacking down the hallway.  
  
Godric turns his hand upwards and squeezes Eric’s fingers in amusement, looking up at him fondly. ‘You taught your child well.’  
  
‘I learned from the best,’ the blond replies, returning the tender gesture. ‘Shall we go?’  
  
They straighten themselves up, and their palms are released from their contact with one another, but the phantom of their touch still lingers there. A swirl of cold air envelops Godric’s fingertips, but he isn’t deterred by it. Eric’s presence, his barely-there smile, his warm gaze, still fills him with peace.  
  
The two of them share one last demure look and move off, content. After all, the night is young.


End file.
